The World is Not Enough
by Brandonstuart
Summary: Harry's world is crashing around him after the death of his beloved godfather, and he feels like no one around him understands him, and he can't relate to them anymore. Can this leave him ripe for a Dark Lord's picking? Slash, HPLV.
1. The Beginning of the End

Me: Ever think of something randomly, then you imagine it happening, then you just have to write it? Yeah, this is one of those things. I'd been listening to a song for so long, that I had to imagine... well, I don't want to spoil it, I'll put what started this at the end. Hope you enjoy, as I know I did when I wrote it. Don't even attempt to understand what is said at the very end unless you have listened to "The World is Not Enough." Just don't.

Disclaimer: If I really have to say this, then you are not smart enough to live in this world and you might as well give yourself over to me so I can strangle you with your intestines. (Yes, I realize that is quite creepy, and have begun to say this, not in hearing of any person who would send me to a mental institution, all the time. It is my new favorite, original quote) I. Do. Not. Own. Either. Harry. Potter. Or. The. Song. That. Is. Mentioned. In. Here. Is that good enough for you people?

* * *

Harry sighed as he pushed his trolley in front of him, passing through the barrier with barely a thought. He smiled as Ron and Hermione came in after him, waving them off with the excuse that he wanted to stroll around the platform, as he'd never really gotten a chance before. They smiled understandingly and took his trunk with them, getting on the train along with several chattering Hufflepuffs.

He smiled at several people in his year that he knew, and several that were in different years, but didn't stop to talk to any of them. There was some sort of insistent tugging in the back of his mind, something that pulled and nagged at him to drift to one side of the platform. In the back of his mind, he noticed that there were fewer people around here, and the further he walked, the less people arrived. Soon enough, there was no one around, and he found himself in a dark corner of the platform.

He paused in his walking, and sighed. He thought about all that had happened lately, Voldemort's rebirth, his time with the Dursley's', and all the anger and annoyance that had permeated his very being as of late. He couldn't seem to relate to his friends, and was still angry that they had not taken the time to write to him about any more than trivial things. They could have used a code, one that only he would have known, and yet they didn't.

Lately, he had been getting the feeling that they were now just strangers. Sure, everything seemed to be the same to the two of them, but to Harry, they seemed to be two strange people. He could hardly relate to Sirius anymore, and the novelty of having a godfather seemed to wear off after a year. The man was just too immature for his age.

Harry heaved another sigh. What had changed so much about him? Could his run-in with Voldemort have changed himself so much? He had been forced to give up his childishness to survive the tournament, and the duel at the end of the year had changed his views on life. He had been forced to fight for his life, and that would probably change anyone.

A slight shift in the air around him, and he paused in his musings, suddenly tense and alert. All his wariness couldn't stop himself from finding himself slammed against the wall behind him, cool stone causing shivers to run down his spine. Someone was pressed against him, breathing into his neck. The person let out a chuckle, the breath puffing over his neck and sending delightful little shivers down his spine.

"Who-" Harry gasped out, surprised when he felt the shivers running down his spine. Why was he shivering? No one had ever managed to make him feel this way, so how could this random person do it? Not even Cho Chang, for all her beauty, had ever managed to make him feel this way. It had all been an act, something he knew that others expected of him, and he'd put on the show for them to watch.

Another chuckle, the breath across his neck causing his own breath to hitch slightly. _**"Surely you know who I am, Har-ry,"**_the person hissed, using Parseltongue, which only two people in the world could use. The way he said his name caused his breath to hitch again, and suddenly he understood who was trapping him.

"Voldemort," he breathed out, earning him another chuckle and more shivers. Voldemort pulled back enough so that he could see him, and smirked. The man was wearing a black suit, and was still bald with red eyes and that slit nose.

_**"Very good Har-ry,"**_ he whispered huskily, causing another one of those delightful, yet annoying, shivers to travel down Harry's spine. His red eyes glittered with something Harry couldn't identify.

"What do you want?" he hissed out in annoyance, it coming out more strangled due to the familiar pain that had now just begun prickling from his scar. It was oddly diluted though, and didn't cause as much pain as he remembered it doing.

Voldemort gave him an innocent look, though it was slightly ruined by the amusement that flashed through his eyes. "I just wanted to have a friendly chat with you," he said, seemingly hurt. It made him look slightly adorable, and that thought made Harry wonder if he had been force-fed drugs without his knowledge.

"Nothing about you could ever be friendly," Harry snarled, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. He wouldn't put it past the man to whisk him away to somewhere secluded and have his wicked way with him. Wait, back up there, have his wicked way with him? Where had that thought come from? He most certainly did not think of Voldemort that way!

Voldemort leaned back in, and Harry could feel his breath across his neck again, as well as those delightful little shivers. Though he would never tell anyone he enjoyed it, he could hardly admit it to himself. "Ah, but this time I am. I was wondering if you would join me?" he asked, nuzzling Harry's neck with his cheek.

Harry's eyes widened almost comically, and he would most certainly have burst out laughing at the idea if the situation didn't seem too serious. "Why would I ever do that?" he asked, his tone showing that he believed the idea ludicrous.

"What if I told you that everything you've ever been told is a lie? What if I told you it was Dumbledore who killed your parents, and I was the one who saved you from certain death, at the cost of my life? What if I told you, that our bond is not because of any sort of curse?" he whispered into Harry's ear, speaking so softly, yet so convincing that Harry was hard-pressed to believe him.

"Why should I believe you? You've tried to kill me many times besides that, in case you have forgotten," Harry growled, moving a hand to push Voldemort away. He quickly found both his wrists above his head, held firmly to the wall with one of Voldemort's hands. The other hand had taken to trailing along his side, and tracing patterns into the fabric of his shirt.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," was breathed into his ear, and he couldn't fight back the shiver that slithered its' way down his spine, especially when his ear was then nipped lightly. _**"What if I told you you were my mate?"**_ he asked, cupping his cheek with his free hand, and leaning back to look into his eyes.

Harry felt his eyes widen, and his mouth dropped open. His mind tried to catch up with the words, but he couldn't seem to process what Voldemort had said. His mate, how could he possibly be his mate? What was this, some sort of trick? "What?" he asked, blinking his eyes a few times to try and get them to their normal size.

Voldemort seemed to have already expected that type of response, and smiled softly. Harry nearly had to do a double-take. Voldemort, smiling softly, at HIM? Someone had to have slipped him drugs, it was the only explanation, and this was all some very weird dream. "You may not have been told this yet, but each and every wizard has their own soul mate. One person that they were compatible with in each and every way, and who balances them out. If someone does not find their soul mate before their fortieth birthday, they are slowly driven insane, only to come back to sanity slowly once their soul mate has been born."

Harry continued to stare at him, still willing himself to believe this was all some weird dream, but he was starting to admit that it did sound true. "Still, even if that was true, what makes you think I'll join you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes again.

Voldemort rolled his eyes, and seemed to be trying to find some patience. He leaned back into Harry's neck again. "I was still insane at the time. I am truly sorry about that, I would never have done such a thing. Believe me?" he whispered, nipping at Harry's neck, producing a soft moan in response.

How could Harry not believe him, when he sounded so sad and pathetic? The nipping wasn't helping him think any at all either. "I believe you," he sighed out, gasping as it earned him a sharper nip, and Voldemort's cheek rubbed against his throat. He could feel the man's smile against his throat, before he playfully nipped at his ear. Harry's breath hitched again, and the man seemed to take it as a very good sign.

He nuzzled Harry's cheek with his own and murmured enticingly into his ear, "The world is not enough, but it is such a perfect place to start, my love. And if you're strong enough, together we can take the world apart, my love." He trailed a path of nips and licks to Harry's lips.

Harry stared into the red eyes of his ex-enemy- when had he started thinking of him as such? - and say him pause to stare back into Harry's eyes. Harry knew he was letting him think over his proposal, and he took several seconds to do just that. If what Voldemort was saying was true, and he knew, deep, deep down in the darkness of his very soul that he was, then saying yes would be the right thing to do.

He had made up his mind in less than a minute, though it wasn't much of a contest to begin with. He hesitantly nodded, and instantly felt a pair of lips descend on his own. He was momentarily startled, but eventually fell into it, kissing back and closing his eyes. Voldemort's free hand slipped under his shirt and caressed the skin it found there.

Harry tilted his head back, and gasped into the kiss. It was soon evident that Voldemort had planned it, when a tongue invaded his mouth. It plundered him mercilessly, and his legs felt like they'd been turned to butter. It was because of the wall pressing into his back, and Voldemort pressing against him that kept him upright. He gasped again when a leg was forced between his own, pressing up against the bulge that had formed in his pants.

He moaned when Voldemort rubbed his leg against his straining erection, and hesitantly touched Voldemort's tongue with his own. He was instantly led into a dance of tongues, and wills, and his body felt so hot. All he wanted was more, more, more. It didn't seem like enough, no matter what he did, and he was so hot. He broke the kiss to toss his head back and groan when Voldemort's fingers dipped under the waistband of his trousers, and he grabbed Harry's stiff erection.

Voldemort pulled Harry into another kiss; one more heated than the last one, and slid his hand up and down Harry's aching shaft. Harry found himself rubbing against the man's hand like a dog in heat, and blushed at the thought. He continued to rub himself against Voldemort's hand, his moans and groans swallowed by the man's mouth on his own. It was all over too soon, and he came with a loud moan- swallowed when the older man pressed him into another kiss- and his vision blocked out.

When he finally came to, he found himself slumped bonelessly against the wall, with Voldemort in no better condition, though he was more dignified about it. Voldemort was also licking Harry's semen from his fingers, and Harry blushed at the sight. Voldemort seemed to find it funny, because the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly as he watched him. He leaned forward again to nip at Harry's neck- neck fetish, he'd swear! "There is a prophecy about the two of us in the Department of Mysteries, in the Ministry of Magic. I need you to pretend like you are having visions of the hallway that leads to it, and at the end of the year, act like you had a vision of your godfather being tortured in there. I will need you to go there afterwards. I need you to fetch it for me, because I can't do it myself, love," he whispered into his ear, just like a serpent, adding a nip as an afterthought.

Harry blinked sluggishly at him, and then hesitantly nodded. He was going to ask a question, when Voldemort beat him to it. "Do not worry love, we will meet before the year is up, but I also need you close to Dumbledore to report to me through Severus. He is not Dumbledore's spy, as he has led you to believe, but my own," he said softly, and Harry nodded more confidently.

"I will leave you to get on the train, you are close to missing it, love," Voldemort whispered into his ear, and then he was gone. Harry's hands fell down to his sides, no longer held in place by Voldemort's hand, and he leaned heavily against the wall for support. The world around him seemed to come into focus, and he realized the train was close to leaving, and there were only a few students getting on right now down on the other end. For a moment, he thought he had dreamed it all, but then he felt the cooling cum on the inside of his pants, and he blushed before using a quick spell to clean it up.

He ran to get on the train, looking back at the last second, and he could have sworn that he saw a pair of red eyes watching him in amusement from where he had just been. He only smiled slightly and nodded, turning to step fully onto the train. His whole life had just changed, yet again in less than a year, and he would probably never be the same again. He had a mission to do, though, and he would do it. His mate depended on him for it, and he would not fail him.

* * *

Me: Yeah. I was listening to the song, and I thought of Voldemort pressing Harry against a wall, whispering the words of the song in Harry's ear, seducing him to his side while at King's Cross. Except, unlike in the book and the movie, it really happened and wasn't a dream. I think it turned out well, as well as can be for my first time writing it and not checking it over. Anyway, please review and tell me if you think I should write a sequel or something. I don't think I've gotten over this plot yet. 


	2. A Demand From a Snake

Me: Yes, I have finally come out of my procrastination and written the second chapter. Yes, I am continuing this, and I hope everyone likes this chapter just as much as I do. It didn't really turn out the way I wanted it, because I was hoping to name each chapter after a song, and this chapter's song would have been "Getting Away With Murder" by Papa Roach, but then I realized that Harry would have to kill someone to really put this. For some reason, Ron wanted to be the one to volunteer for that place, but I would have none of that.

For some reason, I just know that I will use Ron later on for something... special. I don't know what now, but I'll use him. This just became completely different than what I expected it to be, and the story just took on a life of itself.

Disclaimer: No, do I look like the type of person to come up with the awesomeness that is Harry Potter? I thought not, so obviously I don't own it.

* * *

Harry stood there for several seconds, seeming to come out of a daze, and shook his head roughly. He leaned against the door, sighing softly. Now that he had time to think over his decision, was it really the right thing? He had made the decision in the 'heat of the moment' as some people would say. What if Voldemort was tricking him?

Perhaps he should stop worrying, and just trust in his… mate? Is that what he should call Voldemort? Whatever he called him, he would just have to trust him. For so long he had worried about what he would do, and what could happen to him, it would feel good to give up control to someone who wouldn't harm him.

Though… it wasn't such a bad idea if the man did that again… He caught himself and blushed. It had felt good, though, there was no way he couldn't admit that. Perhaps his life was taking a turn for the better, it may have only been wishful thinking, but he wanted so badly to believe that his life would get better now.

He let out another sigh, turning his head to watch the scenery pass by in the small window in the door. He blinked, suddenly realizing he was leaning against the door, and jumped back. It wouldn't do to fall off the train and potentially die before he could finish his… whatever-the-hell's plan first.

Would Voldemort go crazy again if he died? He paused to ponder over that for a few seconds, before tossing it into the back of his mind. That kind of thinking would only lead to him questioning things all over again. The first time he questioned things, it was over something he more than likely didn't have to. Typical Harry. He paused again at the cynicism he had aimed at himself.

He shook his head to clear his mind and turned to find Ron and Hermione. No matter what happened, he would still have to pretend that they were friends. It would be slightly strange if he just up and stopped being friends with them, for no reason anyone else could find. It would just hurt a lot, if they didn't accept his switch, because, even though he was drifting apart from them, they had still been his friends for five years. Five whole years, no one could be friends with someone for that long and not have even the smallest of twinges at losing them suddenly.

He passed by several compartments that held people he would consider acquaintances, and he paused to open the door and chat with each and every one he passed, though he would never admit to himself that he was only doing it to waste time. After getting caught up on the latest news, mostly Death Eater attacks and what the Ministry was doing about it, he finally gave up and turned all his attention on finding Ron and Hermione. He half-hoped that they were still doing their prefect duties so he wouldn't have to come up with any excuses.

"Harry!" someone called from behind him, causing him to stop and turn to see who it was. Ginny Weasley stood in a half-opened compartment door, staring at him in surprise. She seemed to snap out of whatever daze she had been in, and quickly motioned for him to follow her.

He slowly blinked, then looked around to discover that no one else was around, before deciding to follow her. It couldn't hurt that much, now could it? He strode over to her, hunching over slightly as he realized that the corridor was cooler than it normally was.

"What's going on Ginny?" he asked, looking into the compartment and almost jerking himself back at who he saw inside. Draco Malfoy, along with his two bodyguards, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini lounged inside the compartment, laughing at something Harry hadn't heard. Draco was the first to notice him, and he straightened himself out immediately, getting up and moving to stand right in front of Harry.

Draco slowly looked him up and down, seeming to absorb everything about him as though he were a sponge, and finally looked back up at his face. He opened his mouth to speak and Harry braced himself for an insult.

"About time you left them," was what actually came out of the blond's mouth, shocking Harry with his bluntness. He immediately looked around, making sure that no one had heard them before turning back around.

"I have no clue what you are talking about Malfoy," he said coolly, keeping his surprise hidden. The blond may be right, but he was not going to be the one to admit it before the other told him how he had realized it.

"Don't act like you don't know. It's all over you," Draco leaned closer to him, and Harry could feel his breathe on his ear. "The Dark Lord's magic is practically smothering your own."

Harry's eyes widened, fear and horror warring inside him. Oh, if Draco Malfoy could sense Tom's magic on him, then Dumbledore would be able to as well! This was the end of the line for him, just as soon as Dumbledore came close to him, he would know.

Draco seemed to sense Harry's anxiety, leaning back and soothingly saying, "Don't worry Potter, I only know that because I know what to look for. The old man has not been around the Dark Lord long enough to be able to sense his magic at all."

Everyone else seemed to immediately understand what they were talking about, and smirks blossomed on their faces. It seemed they knew what he was to Tom, and were very smug about the fact that he had been swayed to the man's side. Not to mention the fact that Pansy and Ginny looked like they wanted to swoon as they realized exactly _what _Harry and Voldemort would have had to do for Harry to have the man's magic all over him, in King's Cross no less!

Harry himself could have opted for dying of embarrassment at the moment, if he didn't have a mission to do for Tom at the moment. He could feel a blush forming on his cheeks, and he strangled it before it could come forth. There was no way in hell he was going to let these guys see him blush! Not to mention if someone saw him blushing while standing in the door of a compartment full of Slytherins, with one Gryffindor, they would start to question him. That reminded him that he needed to either get in or leave, and he would rather stay here than return to look for Ron and Hermione.

He seemed to surprise the others when he slammed the door closed behind him and pushed Draco out of the way to plop himself into a seat. Ginny sat down next to him, still giggling and looking completely starry-eyed at him. It was slightly creeping him out. Who knew Ginny was a yaoi fangirl?

Draco had already got his composure, and didn't even seem to be fazed by the others laughter at his ungraceful shove, and was now sitting in a seat across from him. He stared at Harry, causing Harry to blink and look away quickly. All laughter and amusement spilled out of the compartment at that moment. Seriousness replaced it quickly, making everyone tense and guarded.

"So," Draco quietly asked, causing everyone flinch as it broke the uneasy silence that had a hold of them all, "what did he ask you to do?"

As everyone in the compartment stared at him, Harry could only hold back a gulp as he wondered if he could tell them. Of course they were Slytherins, but that didn't mean that he was going to tell them just because of that. He would have to make up his decision, and by the looks on the others faces, he would have to make it quick. He wondered how he could have gotten himself into this kind of mess, and silently made a note to find out the reason he had such bad luck and fix it.

* * *

Me: Yeah, no clue where Ron and Hermione are, and there is very little talking in this chapter. Yes, I have looked over the first chapter and decided that Harry was just a little too accepting at the moment, so I thought I'd put in that little part where he is still unsure of if he made the right decision, or if Voldemort had been telling the truth at all. This will be a big factor, I just know it... Yes, I have not planned out where this story will go, or what the central plot will be, but I will not use something that's really cliche.

Harry will get along with the Slytherins, whether he tells them his mission or not (Because I have already stated I don't know, depends on my mood), and they will become a big part of whatever happens to Harry. Ginny is with the Slytherins because... of something that I just decided on, which means I can't tell you or it would be a gigantic spoiler. I can tell you it's an idea spin-off thingy that at least one person has used. Review please, and tell me what I can make better, because I know that some things could be changed.


End file.
